You're My Girl
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: Even between two people utterly devoted to one another, jealousy can sometimes get in the way.
1. Chapter 1

**You're My Girl**

Jean Beazley sat at the bar in the Colonist's Club, gently sipping her sherry. Normally a woman alone wouldn't be permitted to sit alone at the bar; it wasn't very proper. But everyone knew Mrs. Beazley, the widow housekeeper to Dr. Blake. And Cec Drury was there to look out for her, making sure the other club members didn't make any fuss about her as she waited.

The trouble with the waiting was that Jean had no idea how long she'd be there. She didn't mind waiting at home, because there were always things at home she could do to keep herself busy. But here, she could only sit and drink.

When her glass was nearly empty, the seat beside her was taken by a distinguished gray-haired man. "Pardon me, do you mind?" he asked politely.

"Not at all," she replied, taking a moment to look him up and down.

"I'm just visiting Ballarat for the evening on my way to Adelaide," the man told her, striking up a conversation.

"Well, people don't tend to stay in Ballarat for long. Are you going home to Adelaide?" Jean replied, figuring she'd have a chat as she waited.

"No, I've never been, actually."

"It's very lovely. My son and his family live there. I stayed with them for a while last year to help with their new baby."

"I hope you'll pardon me for saying, but you cannot be old enough to be a grandmother!" the man flattered.

Jean smiled. "I assure you I am, but that's nice of you to say."

From the doorway, Lucien Blake watched Jean speak to the man. At first, he was taken with the curve of her waist and hips and legs in the tight blue dress she was wearing, and he'd allowed himself to stare at her for a moment. Then he noticed her smile and laugh, the perfectly coifed brown curls shake with mirth, which made his heart flutter in his chest. But then he saw what—or rather who—had made her laugh. An altogether different feeling gripped him in the pit of his stomach.

Lucien walked right over, ignoring the handful of people who had tried to say hello to him as he brushed past them. "Jean, darling!" he greeted loudly. He wrapped an arm around her and kissed her cheek.

Jean balked slightly. "Lucien, nice of you to join me," she replied with a mild scolding in her tone.

"I'm so sorry to keep you waiting. There's simply no excuse. Though I see you were able to stay entertained." He turned to the man beside Jean. "Hello, Dr. Lucien Blake," he said, introducing himself with a handshake.

The man looked quite disappointed. "Ah, hello. Horace Croly."

"Mr. Croly was telling me about his upcoming trip to Adelaide," Jean explained.

"Oh yes, Jean and I spent a wonderful week in Adelaide last year."

She watched Lucien speak to Mr. Croly with a strange smile plastered on his face, and his arm never leaving her shoulders. He was standing rather too close to her, and that kiss, even on the cheek, was very near crossing the line of proper public behavior. She knew she had to put an end to whatever this was. "Well, Lucien, I think we'd better go into the dining room for dinner. Mr. Croly, it was lovely to meet you, and I wish you the best on your trip to Adelaide," Jean said kindly.

She gave Lucien a small nudge to get him to move. He took her hand to help her down from the barstool and kept ahold of it as they made their way from the bar.

Jean had to nearly yank her hand away from him. "Lucien, we are in public!" she hissed.

"Yes, dear, I know," he replied. When they sat down at their table, he felt like he could finally exhale. "I am sorry I was late."

She just shrugged. "I didn't really expect you to arrive at seven on the dot."

"Though I see you didn't get too bored," he growled.

"No, I didn't mind." She paused. "Wait a minute. You're jealous!"

He didn't respond.

"Lucien Blake, I cannot believe that you, of all people, are jealous!" Jean was almost laughing at this point. The idea seemed oddly comical.

"Why me, of all people?" He was mildly offended at that remark.

"Well, you're not typically the most involved of people for the most part. And you've always been rather sure of yourself for the most part. Brazenly, actually. Green is an odd color on you," she quipped.

Lucien leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. In a low tone, he told her, "To take that point by point, I like to think I'm very involved when it comes to you, and as a result I don't think I'm ever too sure of myself. And I look wonderful in green."

Jean laughed, her mouth spread wide in a beautiful smile. Lucien felt that fluttering in his chest. "I promise you that you have nothing to ever be jealous of. There isn't one man in all of Ballarat who can hold a candle to you, Lucien," she assured him.

"Ah yes, but that Mr. Croly was just visiting," he teased.

Jean shook her head at him. "I hope I don't need to remind you that I'm not some shiny toy for you to hide away from the other boys to keep them from seeing it."

"I'd never think such a thing about you, Jean. I think…" he trailed off, not wanting to admit the truth he'd just realized.

"You think what?" she prompted.

He reached across the table to take her hand. She cautiously allowed him to caress her palm with his thumb. "I think we spent so much time rebuffing the rumors that now that you're my girl, I don't want anyone to ever think otherwise."

She felt a slight blush creep up her cheeks. "I'm not much of a girl anymore, Lucien, but I'll always be yours." She gave his hand a squeeze.

He wanted to lean over the table and kiss her, public decorum be damned, but their waiter came by, breaking the spell of the moment. Lucien had to clear his throat a bit before he could speak. Jean just watched him with stars in her eyes, pleased as punch that she didn't need to hide her feelings for him ever again.


	2. Chapter 2

Jean Beazley was rather proud of herself for convincing Dr. Blake to accompany her to church that Sunday. She wasn't the most devoted Catholic, but she did go to church almost every Sunday. Lucien had complained about her leaving him to his own devices on Sundays when he had no patients or cases to occupy him. So she had given him the choice to sit beside her in the pew for church or find something to do at home while he was gone. He had wisely chosen to join her for the service, even driving her in the car, to her delight.

He was doing his best to stay focused on the service, but as was expected for someone who had witnessed the horrors Lucien Blake had seen, he'd given up on God and religion long ago. He flipped pages in the prayer book, reading ahead during the priest's sermon. Though he did remember a number of the hymns from his youth, and Jean enjoyed hearing his lovely singing voice. She made a mental note to ask him to sing at the piano more often at home.

When the service finally ended, Jean told Lucien to wait outside. She wanted to speak to some of the ladies in her sewing circle, and there was no point in making him stand beside her, bored out of his mind. He slipped out of the church as swiftly as he could.

"Jean, I was surprised to see the doctor here with you," Mrs. Walker commented.

"Yes, he wanted to accompany me today," Jean replied simply. She knew that no matter what they did, Ballarat insisted on gossiping. Jean tried to hold back the tide as best she could, for both their sakes.

Jean got the information she needed from Emmaline Chester, then quickly excused herself. She knew Lucien was waiting.

But when she got outside, she saw him deep in conversation with Marjory Lain, a war widow like Jean herself. Jean didn't like the way Marjory was smiling and laughing with Lucien like that. Neither did she like how close together the two were standing.

Jean marched up to them and rudely interrupted, "Lucien, I promised Charlie lunch today, so I think it's high time we go home." She wrapped her arm securely around his.

Lucien patted her hand. "Of course, dear." He nodded to Marjory. "Mrs. Lain, it was lovely to see you. Best of luck with your pies." He and Jean walked away, though Jean did set a rather brisk pace.

She didn't let go of his arm until she got inside the car. She avoided eye contact when he got in and sat beside her.

"I wasn't aware we were in any rush," he commented. Jean just sat there, arms folded, head high and haughty. "Jean, you weren't…yes, you are! You're jealous!" he laughed.

She just glared at him. "I don't like the way Marjory Lain was throwing herself at you."

"She was not 'throwing herself' at me, Jean. I was waiting outside and she came to say hello. I treated her for an infection a few years ago, and she's recovered nicely. She was just telling me that she was going to enter a baking contest in Bendigo. That was all, I promise."

Jean furrowed her brow. "You are far too kind and handsome for your own good."

Lucien's eyes lit up. "Handsome?"

She pursed her lips and gave his arm a light slap. "Come on, drive us home."

He could tell she wanted to end the conversation, but he wasn't quite ready to give up the opportunity for her to shower him with praise. He started the car and casually noted, "You know, you're not the first woman to tell me I'm handsome."

Jean's gaze snapped to him.

Lucien just laughed. "I don't think I've ever seen you jealous before!"

"I've been jealous plenty of times. I just used to hide it better. I had no right to be jealous before."

"And now you do?"

"Yes, I think I do. If you can put your arm around me in that possessive way I hate whenever I'm speaking to another man, I can do the same when an overly-interested woman is flirting with you!"

Lucien held the steering wheel with one hand and reached the other over to rest gently on her knee. "You're my girl, Jean. You and no one else. And for a variety of reasons, I do occasionally have to speak to other women. But I hope you'll never worry."

Jean didn't answer, but she also didn't move his hand away. He let his fingers caress the fabric of her skirt, gently pulling it up to reach her stocking-covered thigh. She scooted closer to him in the car, resting her head on his shoulder as he drove, enjoying his light ministrations with a contented smile on her face.


End file.
